The cave is damp and cold against my back. I press herbs against the worst of my wounds, the ones still bleeding. My paws shake as I work. Not from fear. From exhaustion.
The herbs sting. Pain means I'm alive. Pain means I survived.
For now.
I lean my head against the rock wall and close my eyes. Immediately, I see Sorin's face. His brown eyes finding mine across the blood-soaked floor. His lips forming my name.
My eyes snap open.
I can't think about that. Not now. Not if I want to survive.
I examine the gash on my shoulder. Deep but clean. It'll heal. Eventually. I pack more herbs against it, pressing hard despite the burn. My ribs ache with each breath. Probably cracked. Nothing I can do about that except wait.
I've never been good at waiting.
My stomach growls. When did I last eat? The celebration. Seems like a lifetime ago. I was so happy then. So stupidly, blindly happy.
I need water. Food. Better shelter than this cave. I need to think, to plan, to figure out how one wolf takes down an entire pack.
Because that's what I'm going to do. Take them down. Every single one who raised a hand against us. Every single one who stood silent while Varek murdered my mate.
They wanted tradition? I'll give them tradition. The oldest tradition of all.
Blood for blood.
I press harder on the wound. The pain grounds me.
Sorin made me Alpha. He gave me everything I'd ever wanted. Recognition. Respect. Equality.
And it killed him.
No. Varek killed him. Varek and his pathetic need to restore his family's honor. As if honor could be inherited instead of earned.
My claws dig into the cave floor. Stone scrapes beneath them.
They called me a perversion. An insult to tradition. They said the Moon Goddess wept at what we'd done.
The Moon Goddess can weep all she wants. I didn't ask for her blessing and I don't need it now.
I shift positions, testing my body. Everything hurts but nothing feels broken beyond repair. I'm strong. I've always been strong. The best hunter Obsidian Pines has ever known.
Was. Past tense now.
The forest sounds filter into the cave. Bugs chirping. Wind rushing through leaves. Small animals scurrying through underbrush. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.
Then I hear something else.
Footsteps. Multiple sets. Moving through the forest with purpose.
My body goes rigid. I press myself deeper into the cave wall, barely breathing.
They're searching. Varek's wolves. Several of them by the sound of it.
How did they find me? I was careful. I covered my tracks. I stayed downwind.
I examine myself in the dim light. My obsidian fur is matted with dried blood but nothing fresh. The herbs are working. I look at my paws. Clean.
Something's wrong.
I reach behind me, touching my back with careful paws. My shoulder blade. My spine. Lower.
There.
Wet. Warm. Fresh.
I pull my paw back. Blood glistens dark against my fur in the cave's shadows.
Fuck.
I got sloppy. The wound on my back must have reopened. I've been leaving a blood trail this entire time.
I've lost packmates before. During storms when visibility dropped to nothing. During hunts when prey scattered and split us apart. I always found them. Always picked up their trail. Always brought them home.
But this is different.
Sorin's death shook me deeper than I realized. Deeper than I wanted to admit.
A tear slides down my muzzle. I taste salt on my fangs.
Stop it. Crying won't help.
The footsteps are closer now. Circling. They're tracking my blood. Of course they are.
The search party moves in a pattern I recognize. Hardik taught me that formation. Wide circle that gradually tightens. Efficient. Deadly.
They're getting closer to my cave.
If they find it, I'm trapped. One exit. No room to maneuver. They'll pour in and finish what they started last night.
I have two choices.
Stay here. Hope they miss the cave entrance. Hope my blood trail doesn't lead them right to me.
Or go out there. Find them first. Take control of the hunt.
The answer is obvious.
I've never been good at hiding. I'm a hunter. Not prey.
Time to remind them of that.
I stand slowly. Silent as still water. Every movement controlled despite the pain radiating through my body.
My ribs protest. My back screams. My leg threatens to give out.
I breathe through it. Calm. Steady. The pain is just information. My body telling me what's damaged. I don't have to listen.
This is just another hunt. That's all.
Except I'm not hunting deer this time.
I'm hunting wolves. My former packmates. Wolves I trained with. Ate with. Laughed with.
Traitors now.
Targets.
The distinction helps. They stopped being my pack the moment they stood by and let Varek murder Sorin. The moment they chose tradition over what was right.
Now they're just obstacles between me and vengeance.
I move toward the cave entrance. Each step is careful. Precise. I've done this thousands of times. Stalked prey through these woods since I was old enough to shift.
My paws make no sound on the stone floor.
The forest outside is brighter than the cave. I'll be exposed the moment I step out. Vulnerable.
Good.
Let them see me coming.
Let them understand what they created when they took everything from me.
I pause at the cave mouth. Listen. The search party is close. Maybe fifty yards to my left. Moving slow. Following my blood trail.
Amateurs.
They're so focused on the trail they're not watching their surroundings. Not anticipating that their prey might turn predator.
Hardik would be disappointed in them.
I'm counting on it.
I take one more breath. Let the forest air fill my lungs. Let it wash away the fear and grief and pain.
What's left is sharp. Focused. Pure.
I am Arida. Best hunter Obsidian Pines has ever known.
And I'm done running.
I take one last breath of stale cave air. Then I step outside into the light.